


Stiff Upper Lip

by toesohnoes



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Erik leaves in the morning, Charles tries to pretend it doesn't break his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiff Upper Lip

**Author's Note:**

> Written at my [Tumblr](http://toestastegood-fic.tumblr.com/post/11827440143/its-not-personal-erik-says-as-he-hurries-to).

“It’s not personal,” Erik says as he hurries to pull on his clothes once more. The legs of his trousers become tangled as he tries to tug him on, and in any other circumstance Charles thinks that he might laugh at him for that. He’s not laughing now. “You understand that, don’t you?”

He swallows and tries to make himself smile, but he feels like his throat is filled with razor blades. “Of course,” he says. “We’re both adults.”

For a while, he had been able to convince himself that this meant more than it did. When Erik had kissed him and stripped him, when they’d drowned in the bed-sheets and panted into each other’s mouths, it had felt as if this meant everything. More than a fling, this had been a reunion.

“Charles…” Erik sounds so genuinely apologetic that it merely makes everything worse. “You know I can’t stay.”

Charles nods. He’s more than mature enough to understand the realities of their situation. After watching Erik and Raven leave while he bled over the sand and lost control of his legs, he no longer has the luxury of being naïve about the costs of their politics. It would be easier if it didn’t hurt so much.

“I’m not asking you to stay,” he promises, but he can’t stop himself from watching with a heavy heart as Erik pulls his shirt back on.

He wants to reach out and rip it from his hands – he could do it quite easily, for all that his legs no longer cooperation. He could reach into Erik’s mind and make the necessary changes now that Erik has temporarily put his helmet to one side. It would be such an easy, simple thing; his hands twitch in his lap and he manages to retain his self-control.

“You look as if someone has died,” Erik says. He even has the audacity to sound amused. “It’s making things difficult.”

 _Good_ , Charles thinks – stupidly, stubbornly – but he manages not to project it. Instead he offers a smile, weak but watery, and shakes his head. “I’m not trying to make you change your mind,” he says. “I hope one day you’ll see the errors of your ways, but…”

Erik’s smile twitches, cautious and bitter. “Do you think I’m a lost cause?” he asks – and he makes the question sound like an insult, snarled out like a pained dog.

Charles can only shake his head. “Far from it,” he promises. “There is so much good in you, Erik.”

He knows that his words are falling on deaf ears when Erik reaches for his helmet, which had been lying so harmlessly on the floor. It’s difficult to pretend that the silence doesn’t ache.

It’s difficult, so difficult, to pretend that he can always be okay with saying goodbye.


End file.
